


A Quilt from Yavin 4

by flippyspoon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Excess soppiness, Friendship, Grief, M/M, Romance, Snow, taking liberties with the rules of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: Yet another fic about Finn settling in with the Resistance after Starkiller.  Angst, grief, some snow, a quilt.





	1. Chapter 1

“Inspection.” 

FN-2187 snapped to and Phasma stomped into his squad’s quarters. He ran through the checklist in his head; bed corners perfect, armor polished (had he remembered to fix that smudge he noticed on the- yes yes, he thought he had)... He didn’t worry about his hygiene as he was precise about that sort of thing by nature. Taking care of his physical self he considered to be a measure of control, autonomy. They cut his hair and inspected his nails but they never thought to look at the cleanliness of teeth, for example, so FN-2187 paid special attention to his teeth just to please himself. 

“FN-2187.” Phasma was facing him as he stood at the end of the line next to the other troopers. They were not wearing their helmets and he saw his own reflection in the chrome of her helmet. He was distracted by it for a moment. They were rarely without their helmets in front of authority figures and 87 had a tendency to forget to regulate his facial expressions because, in the small bit of privacy afforded by the helmet, he could smile and roll his eyes and cry and no one would see. Sometimes he wondered if Phasma and the others took care to check on their reactions without the helmets, but they never said so. FN saw his own face in the shiny chrome and was relieved to see that he was outwardly blank of emotion.

“You will lead the squadron on drills today,” Phasma said. He was not wrong then. She was grooming him for leadership it seemed. He didn’t want that. He was afraid of what he might have to do.

“I can’t, Rey’s waiting for me,” Finn said. “And Poe and General Organa and all of them. I can’t stay here.”

“You think you’re a person?” He could hear Phasma smiling under helmet. “You are a weapon and you belong to us. Asset.”

“Traitor!” A voice said behind him and FN whipped around. Instead of Nines he saw a mountain of dead troopers, blood pouring out of their helmets. “Traitor! Traitor!”

The blood ran into the snow and then the blood went white and the snow and armor and all of it was like the light they shined in your eyes if you’d said something against regs and it hurt now, how it hurt, worse than the saber in his back-

“Finn, I’m right here, buddy,” a soft voice said. “I’m so sorry it hurts. I’ve got you. I’ll be right here.”

Everything felt clenched as if he were lifting a terrible weight and he felt sick.

“Please breathe, please breathe…”

There were other voices, murmurs, and they faded away. FN-2187 fell down and down, dreading the ground to come. Instead he felt warmth like that bit of relief climbing into your bunk after another long day, those couple of minutes to yourself before a stinging chemical kind of exhaustion swam over you all at once as the stims wore off. 

He was in the desert now. Jakku.  _ Jakku _ , that awful hellscape. Maybe some part of him could think of it as beautiful really, all those rippling dunes broken by the occasional ruin of an AT-AT, but it was where Slip had died in his arms; where he had watched the others firing on innocent people; where he thought Poe, his fast friend, had died; where he had trudged under an unforgiving sun, stifling in his body glove, carrying the jacket because it was the last memory of a first true friend.

He walked for a long time, the memory of their escape from the Finalizer and the battle in that village pulsing in his mind in repeating flashes that cut deeper with each step into the hot sands.

He had heard Poe’s screams outside the door.

He had felt a kind of power for a moment after not firing when ordered and a wild ghost of a thought: Was it the evil thing that Ren did, that power…?

_ What’s your name? _

Fear fear fear throbbing, even as he knew with a shocking sense of strength that he would never have fired, that he would never fire on innocent people yet he had fired on-

I’m going to pass out.

Slip reaching out to him-

But he had fired on his brothers-

_ They were not your brothers. _

Phasma and the rest certainly never encouraged a fraternal sense among the troopers but you could never take it all away completely, or you might as well use droids again, not that it hadn’t been discussed-

“You will lead your squadron today.”

“You will kill your squadron today.”

You could never take it away completely, that’s why Slip had reached out-

He fired randomly with the TIE’s guns, adrenaline surging, high on their escape-

“The canons!”

How many troopers he had met in passing had been manning those canons, and then on Takodana-

But they were killers and he was not a killer, knew he would never kill an innocent.

“You will lead your squadron today.”

“Taken from a family I’ll never know.” 

Were they innocent too-

“You feel it, I know you do.” Some new voice. A gentle pressure on his chest, warm. “I sense it right here. The Force, Finn. Breathe. And feel the Force.”

Who was it… 

Some calming voice, sort of familiar…

Maz, Han had called her. The one who could see right through him.

“I don’t have the Force,” he wanted to say, as Slip died in his arms again. He could hear Maz but in his dream he was speaking to Slip. “I don’t even know what it is.”

That wasn’t entirely true either. He had seen Kylo freeze the bolt, and everyone whispered about the power of Kylo Ren. There were stories and rumors told softly after hours about Jedi and Sith, the legend of Luke Skywalker… Phantoms.

“You are one with the Force, Finn.” The hand pressed, firm, warm. “And the Force is with you.”

FN-2187, no, it was Finn now. He was Finn. He liked the sound of “Finn.” It sounded carefree.  He thought about the sound of “Finn” and Maz disappeared into the fog of things.

_ “I’m Rey.” _

Everybody should have a name, Finn thought vaguely. That’s how you knew you were your own person. Is that why the First Order…

“You are one with the Force…”

...Had not given him a name…

“And the Force-”

...He was not intended to be a real person.

“Is with you.”

“I’m starved,” Nines had said once.

It was their own fault, Phasma had told them. Sometimes they became complacent and comfortable and then the meals were scaled back while others were served larger portions to make them resentful and encourage competition. They were not supposed to be like brothers.

Nines was hungry and so was FN-2187, they’d been drilling double-time all day on top of their daily duties.

Finn had gotten an idea into his head. A wild reckless thrill of an idea. “I know the code into the kitchens.”

Nines met his eyes, shocked. “We can’t-”

“If we’re quick-”

“They catch us and it’s at least three days in the black box.”

“I’ll go if you go,” FN had whispered. He remembered exactly the way Nines' mouth had turned up.

The pain overcame him again and he was dragged away from the memory. His entire body felt like a clenched fist.

“You are one with the Force, Finn.”

_ The Force? I don’t know the Force.  _

But he did. He had felt it and not known what it was. FN-2187 had made it safely out of the kitchens with a container of two full meal portions and he whipped around a corner, hiding in the shadows. But Nines, there was Nines just making it out of the kitchen and an officer coming from the other direction, closer and closer, a small, legged droid trotting behind him, beeping softly.

Nines looked up at FN-2187, a portrait of terror. It was only the black box, it wouldn’t kill you, but people came back...different. A little different every time. FN-2187 had been there once and he chose never to think of it. It was frightening and yet  _ this _ was a thrill and FN-2187, without thinking about it at all, glared at the droid and willed it and-

_ Crash! _

“What the devil-” the officer muttered, whipping around at the sound of the droid which had abruptly flown backwards and into a wall. Nines, with admirable stealth, crossed the corridor to meet FN-2187 in the shadows and they made it safely back to quarters.

“What was that?” Nines had said. “With the droid?”

“I don’t know!” FN-2187 had lied. “Luck, I guess. Clumsy droid.”

“I guess. Weird. Let’s eat!”

Finn felt that same feeling one other time; in the TIE fighter as he shot out the Finalizer’s cannons, Poe cheering him on. Walking through the desert he had reflected on those two incidents, not quite knowing what they meant, though it felt like something on the tip of his mind. They were the only two times he could remember doing something dangerous that was, to use the terms of the Resistance,  _ rebellious _ . Both times he had felt a kind of joy and that odd sense of power rising up within him, and then it was gone. Was that the Force? In the vague, whispered legends of Jedi and Sith he’d heard, there’d been no mention of the Force being tied to that sort of feeling. Was it different for different people?

The pain rose up again in a wave. He couldn’t breathe.

“You are one with the Force and the Force is with you.”

He couldn’t… He couldn’t take it...it hurt…

Think of something good. Put yourself somewhere pleasant. That’s what he had done in the black box.

“We’re gonna do this.” Poe grinning at him, the seemingly reckless but actually strategic and brilliant ace pilot of the Resistance.

Joy. Thrill.

The pain subsided and Finn felt…

“What... His vitals just improved all of a sudden,” a female voice said.

“There it is,” said Maz. “I knew it.”

Finn thought of Rey’s kind smile. Brave and wonderful Rey, who saw him as a person.

“That’s so good, buddy.” Poe’s voice broke through and Finn imagined the three of them laughing together, somewhere warm and safe away from the First Order. That had never happened, but the thought was so nice.

“So Finn can use the Force?” Poe said. His voice was close. He must be seated right next to Finn. Finn could feel the ghost of Poe’s breath in his ear.

“I sensed it on Takodana,” Maz said. “But he wasn’t ready then. He was too busy running. Now he has found something he did not want to run from. And the Force will help him heal.”

Poe said softly, “He’s so…”

“My,” Maz said. “You’re quite taken with him.”

“No, I… I don’t even know him that well yet.“ Finn heard him shifting in his seat. Finn didn’t know where he was, some medical room at the Resistance base no doubt. “But I know enough now about how stormtroopers are trained and how they’re treated and indoctrinated. Do you know, there’s no instance of a stormtrooper ever defecting? It’s never happened that we know of.” A hand grasped his, warm and firm. Poe’s hand. It felt so good and comforting. Finn wished he could come out of whatever this state was and say so.

“He’s very special,” Maz said.

“He really is,” Poe said.

_ Special?  _ Finn thought.  _ Me? Special? _

Everything he’d been taught denied that. He was a tool, according to the First Order. Weapon. He might have been a more useful tool than many of the others. The best in his squad. No one had told him this, but it was obvious. He was skilled and smart and Phasma had clearly been grooming him. But...special?

“And he’s special to you,” Maz said.

“Oh… Um…”

“I’m teasing you, Commander.”

“Fantastic.”

Poe’s hand left his and it saddened Finn. Maz and Poe’s voices became more distant. They’d walked away somewhere. Finn wondered where Rey was. And how much time had passed since Starkiller? Had Rey even made it out? Finn thought she must have. She was so capable. Surely she was alright? But he wished someone would say. 

Time passed and when the pain returned, Finn focused on the mantra Maz had spoken: 

_ I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. _

He thought of Poe’s smile, Rey’s smile, thrills, joy…

He pushed away the memories of Starkiller, of Nines shouting that he was a traitor, of Slip…

It seemed to work. Eventually, he fell asleep thinking back to Rey hugging him, and Poe throwing his arms around him when they’d found each other on base. Could it be true that he was not only allowed to be his own person but was also special to someone? How wonderful that would be.

The next time Poe returned, Finn’s eyes were open.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was winter on D’Qar and that meant snow. The blanket of white over the base muted everything and that was best because most people didn’t feel much like talking. The mood after Starkiller was grim but determined, once everyone got over the short-lived high of hitting the FO where it hurt. The New Republic had been decimated. They build a small stone wall in a clearing just beyond the airfield, a memorial to the fallen, including all those lost in the Hosnian system. It had started as a barren wall, stoic and still, where a person could reflect quietly on their own grief. Eventually people starting sticking up small tributes; notes to fallen comrades and those they’d known from the Hosnian System now gone. There were drawings, flowers, mementos… At the first sign of snow, Snap Wexley had constructed a small pavilion over the wall, but there were still dustings here and there. 

Poe was, by nature, a jovial type of person. He was firm, even stern, when the situation demanded it. But he had been born with a flavor of charisma and good will that disarmed with ease. And like so many who are, by nature, carefree, others expected it of him. That made things all the harder when he truly felt devastated or stricken by the dark. They were, after all, at war. And so many had lost more than he had. Morale was important too. He deeply felt a responsibility to suppress his own grief so as not to bring others down. It was something he had learned young, after his mother had died, when he had worked so hard to keep his dad in better spirits. Sometimes he resented that, but he didn’t think about it often anymore. He loved his father too dearly for that and couldn’t bear to be angry at him now.

Poe liked to go to the wall after his morning jog around the base. Since Starkiller, he woke up earlier than he used to, braving the cold mornings to be alone in the silence of winter, focused only on the rhythm of his steps and the chill air. Out here he wasn’t strung out on the high of a mission, determinedly focused on tactics, cracking jokes, and working to motivate the others… He was just Poe, and it was freeing. 

HIs thoughts were taken up by Finn as he ran this particular morning, the sun beginning to peak over snowy hills. It had been weeks and Finn was still comatose. Dr. Kalonia was positive about this. She claimed his current state was best for the healing his body needed. She was sure he’d wake up. Now Finn lay atop a thick gel cushion of bacta, more advanced than the old tanks. He looked peaceful lying there, untroubled. But Poe worried about it. More often than he thought was strictly necessary. It just didn’t seem fair, he thought for the thousandth time, as he rounded the southwest corner of the airfield. Finn had only just discovered the very idea of life outside the First Order. He shouldn’t be sleeping through it. Even if life on base was less than...jubilant. 

This morning he did a lap and a half around base, ending at the wall. As per usual, nobody was around this early. 

Mourners had stuck tiny projectors all over the wall that displayed small holos so that hundreds of shimmering holograms of the dead were infinitely and silently smiling or dancing or caught unawares in candid shots. Jess Pava had gone to school with a few people who had died on Hosnian Prime and a group holo of them, baby-cheeked and fresh faced in their school uniforms, particularly gutted Poe. A gust of wind blew a little flurry into the pavilion and Poe watched snowflakes fall through the faces of Jess’s friends. Poe swallowed the lump in his throat. That had been just one group of friends. There were millions more. Millions and millions.

It didn’t help either when people thanked him for his heroism that day. Somehow that made it much worse and Poe could not disentangle why. He just greeted the thanks with his easy smile and pushed away the pain. It wasn’t important. Others had it so much worse. And he was a good soldier.

Poe stood at the wall, peaceful if not content in the quiet, until a figure caught his eye.  Folo, an engineer, was making his way to the wall. Poe gathered himself and made his way out, nodding a stoic good morning before starting the jog back to base. He should have been returning to quarters to catch a quick wash in the fresher before breakfast yet somehow he found himself heading to the med bay. He ran all the way, the rhythm of the run carrying him to the long term care ward where a few oblong, somewhat awkward med droids rolled around. The only long term care patient, by now, was Finn. There had not been very many traumatic injuries from Starkiller. Generally, you’d either made out just fine or died. 

At first Poe just stopped by a couple of times to check in and see how Finn was doing. Then one day two weeks after Starkiller he had felt compelled to go again. Eventually he found himself at least popping by everyday. Because if he didn’t, who would? Finn’s friend, Rey, was off with Luke Skywalker. The General had her own grief to manage and too much work. Ironically, nearly everyone on base was curious about Finn but nobody knew him except Poe and so felt inhibited about visiting themselves. Except BeeBee-Ate, of course, who had visited without ever having been ordered. 

BeeBee rolled into view now, having been hiding behind Finn’s bacta gel tank-bed or whatever it was. 

“Where have you been?” BeeBee bleeped (rather judgementally, Poe thought).

“I was running,” Poe said, rolling his eyes. “You know I was running.”

“FRIEND FINN IS HURT.”

“Well, I know-”

“NO, BLACK LEADER. FRIEND FINN VITALS DANGER. PAIN!”

“What…” Poe stepped into the room, eyes locking on Finn. He looked okay. Maybe a little stiffer than usual. Then, abruptly, Finn seized up and the computer monitoring him shrilled just as a med droid rolled over to investigate.

“What’s wrong with him?” Poe said. 

“Commander Dameron, hello.” Dr. Kalonia strode in from behind him and Poe stepped aside. His heart was racing. 

“What’s the matter with Finn?”

“We’re in the home stretch, Commander,” Dr. Kalonia said. “But this last bout is ugly, I won’t lie.”

“But he’s in pain?” Poe said, crossing his arms. “Can’t you give him painkillers?”

“We’ve had to ween him off.”

“Why? It’s not addictive stuff, is it?”

“No, but…”

“I’m a commander, I’m allowed medical information-”

“Finn is not actually with the Resistance-”

“That’s fine, I can get the General.” He was never this aggressive unless it was something to do with flight or battle strategy or the safety of his squad. But this was Finn. He felt, perhaps, irrationally protective of Finn.

“Commander…” Dr. Kalonia clasped her datapad in her arms and finally looked Poe in the eye. “Finn was medicated when he got here.”

“Medicated?” Poe said. He felt as if he knew what was coming and he almost wished he could change his mind and not know, but he’d demanded it already. “With what?”

“The First Order keeps its stormtroopers on a tailored regimen of medication,” Kalonia said, her eyes sad. “Depending on their duties and physicality. The bulk of Finn’s cocktail were stimulants. They allowed him to push himself past what was probably healthy, let him go without sleep longer than normal. There was a medication for anxiety as well. There was a medication to counter the effects of combining those two drugs-”

“Geez,” Poe said, blinking. He felt so stupid about it all. “Anxiety?”

“Once I discovered the medicinal cocktail I continued the dosage-”   


“ _ Why _ ?”

“Because physical withdrawal would be traumatic given the extent of his injuries,” Kalonia said, a bit peeved. “The problem is that painkillers combined with his usual medication is apparently worse than withdrawal. I’m glad you weren’t here to see it, frankly. So we have had to take him off painkillers. And we’re going to, very gradually, ease him back into consciousness.”

All of this sounded painful and awful. Poe wished, yet again, that he could take this burden from Finn. “Shouldn’t ya, I dunno, wait til he’s all done with that junk before you wake him up?”

“He’s been down too long,” Kalonia said, shaking her head. “I don’t know precisely what he might be dealing with in terms of withdrawal from what they were giving him. It may be easy or very difficult. But listen, Commander…” She stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his arm. “Finn is quite strong. There have been times when I thought he would be in real danger and he’s rallied like a champion.”

“Okay.” Poe nodded and the thought was a little cheering. Of course, Finn was strong. Strong of will, heart, and mind. Poe’s eyes welled up and he coughed to cover it. “Okay, so you’re going to ease him out? When does that start?”

“Right now,” Kalonia said firmly. “He’s been experiencing bouts of pain that make him seize up. I believe he may be locked inside his mind, not asleep but not aware of his surroundings. Stuck in a half dream state. It must be very frightening. I want to bring him to awareness of his environment. He will not be fully awake yet. But he will hear us. After that he will gradually awaken over the course of days. Then we’ll have to induce paralysis-”

Poe made a noise of contention at that. It sounded like something Kylo damn Ren would do. “Really?”

“He will complete his healing process much faster if he doesn’t move,” Kalonia assured him. “But he will be fully conscious. Then when the bacta has finished its work, he’ll be up and running again.”

“Wow.” Poe huffed. “That’s pretty intense, doc.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

“Well, let’s do this then,” Poe said, in his most authorial voice.

“Are you staying for this?”   


“Yeah, I got time,” he lied. 

Poe half expected some kind of ceremonial to-do but it only took two minutes of Kalonia instructing the droids to hook this tube up to some doo-hickey and inject a something or other and then nothing happened for a few minutes.   


“Are we waiting for something?” Poe said.

“Yes…” Kalonia was focused on Finn’s vitals streaming across her data pad. Her expression changed and she smiled. “Yes, very good.”

Poe watched Finn, whose breathing subtly changed. “Does that mean he can hear us?” Poe said.

“Ah! He heard that.” She pointed to a line on her datapad that had spiked when he spoke. Finn’s breathing changed again, now he seemed to be gasping for air.

“He’s starting to panic. Speak to him some more. It’s good for him.”

Poe sat near the cot and took Finn’s still hand in his own. “Finn, I’m right here, buddy. I’m so sorry it hurts. I’m watching out for with Dr. Kalonia here. I’ll be right here.”

_ It’s not fair that he’s had so much of his life taken from him, it’s not fair. _

“Please breathe, please breathe…”

“That’s good,” Kalonia said. “He’ll likely be slipping in and out for a while yet.”

Poe stood, but was hesitant to let go of Finn’s hand. “He’s alright now?”   


“I believe so, commander. There may not be much more to do right now.”

“I’m just going to stay a little longer.”

Poe stayed so long he missed his breakfast but he did not consider that a loss. He thought, as he sat there at Finn’s side, about the Damerons’ Force tree. A long time ago, before he had been born, somehow or other a Force tree had ended up in their backyard. He was mad at himself for not remembering the story but unless he was completely losing his mind, it had something to do with Luke Skywalker.

And wouldn’t that just figure?

At some point he’d have to call up his father or his aunt and ask for the details on that.

The Damerons were no Jedi, but his father had always been casually fascinated by the thing. Kes Dameron had collected bits of legends and texts that might shed some light on the Force tree, or at least the Force itself. He was a more talented Pathfinder commando than he was an archivist. But Poe remembered thumbing through some of the tomes he’d picked up, and recalled some of the legends he’d heard here and there as a child. After all, some stories involving the Force weren’t the borings ones about Jedi sitting around meditating in a swamp, some of them involved adventures and heroes. There was a time, when he had been small, that he had tried to use the Force. Once he thought he had moved some leaves, but it had probably been the wind. Though according to his father, his mother always had said that all pilots were secretly Jedi and didn’t know it (he liked that).

When Poe was in a jam, he sometimes distantly thought of the Force. But he didn’t know what to do with that thought.

Somehow, right now, sitting here with Finn, he suddenly wished they were under the Force tree. Perhaps it would heal Finn. And though it felt silly, and he hardly knew what it meant, Poe began to whisper things he remembered hearing in childhood.

“Use the Force, Finn,” Poe said. “Maz says you’re sensitive to the Force. I never was. But maybe you are and it will help you. Reach out with your feelings and let the Force heal you…”

He felt very silly and but he sat there a long time, mumbling half-nonsensical prayers. Finally he rose and after leaving an absentminded kiss on the back of Finn’s hand, he left.

The day following was very busy, which made for an excellent distraction both from his worry for Finn and his grief about everything in general. He smiled and winked and joked for the benefit of everyone else. It might have been better if he hadn’t seen it constantly working. He was good at keeping morale up and all it cost him were nights when he lay in the quiet dark, everything he’d shoved away all day now rushing back to keep him awake.

In the morning he was wrecked and might not have known it, if a certain visitor from Takodana had not walked up to him in the corridor after his run, squinted up at him through her big thick goggles and said, “My, aren’t you a walking a pile of tauntaun dung.”

Maz Kannata gazed up at him and Poe realized he was in a much worse state than he’d thought because he could only summon the weakest of smiles in greeting. “Ah, Maz. Hello. How did you end up here?”

“I’ve been having my place rebuilt,” Maz said with a shrug. “I’ve found a few things I thought might help the Resistance.”

“I’m so sorry about your castle,” Poe said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walked. “It’s been there so long and you’ve had it as your own place so long, I can’t imagine-”

“It was a building, Poe.”

He stopped and turned, looking down at her. He nodded at a bench in the corridor, it was by a window that looked out on the snowy airfield.  Poe sat and immediately felt the ache of exhaustion in his bones.

“The First Order has no respect for old things,” Maz said simply, sitting down next to him. “They don’t understand the sacred. The Empire didn’t either. Oh, maybe a Sith would.” She spoke quietly and Poe felt warmed by the familiarity. He hadn’t spent a great amount of time with Maz Kanata, but he had been stationed on Takodana for a while and visited here and there. They were friendly, and while Poe was somewhat awed by the “Pirate Queen” he also felt like he understood her. “It was an important place. It was an important place to a lot of people, not just me. But…” She looked up at him, searching his eyes. “It was still only a building. Buildings can be made again. People cannot.”

“Did you lose many of your people?”

“One is too many,” Maz said softly. 

“I’m sorry then.”

She gave him a long look then and Poe felt her searching and wanted to squirm, but she was too quick. “Everyone here is still very sad. Everyone here feels the grimness of the fight and the weight of their grief… But you…”

Poe felt overwhelmed for a moment and overcorrected, tittering as if to laugh her off. “I what?”

She reached up and cupped his chin in her leathery hand. “You are not allowing yourself to feel it at all.”

“I-I do,” Poe said. “I go to the wall every morning and-”

“Yes, you go there to attempt to leave your grief in the snow as if it will stay there all day and leave you alone.”

“Maz-”

“You believe you do not deserve grief.”

“The General-”

“We have all lost so much, Commander. And if we are to survive it, we must come to grips with all that we have lost. The General knows that better than anyone, believe me. And she would not exclude you from that.”

He gently leaned back out of her grip and sighed. “I… Thanks for the advice. I better be getting to it. But I’ll see you around.”

“Please think about what I’ve said. You don’t look well, Poe.”

Always so direct.

“I’m trying to keep this place going,” Poe said, a little more snappish than he’d intended. “But I...ya know, appreciate it. I’ll see you later, alright?”

Maz nodded and Poe made his way. She had nearly broken through his defences. He’d been about to crack up and burst into tears just then but there was too much to do and if someone saw they’d wonder what was wrong with the Commander and there was a recon mission to the Outer Rim in two days and...and...and…

Poe tried, a few times during the day, to reflect on what Maz had said. But it was too much, it was overwhelming. It was easier to focus on work, so he worked. The next morning he went for his run in the snow and skipped the wall all together. And when he went to the med bay to check on Finn again, Maz was there.


	3. Chapter 3

_ I am one with the Force and the Force is with me… _

Rey was safe and she was with Luke Skywalker.

_ I am one with the Force and the Force is with me… _

He was getting better and feeling the Force, he thought. Since he had nothing else to do here.

Poe was safe. Finn had seen him and Poe had grabbed his hand and held it warm in his when he had seen Finn awake. He looked sort of like Finn felt but he was okay. BeeBee had bleeped and blurped, rolling around chirping their servos out when they had visited. Finn was able to speak but he couldn’t move. They had induced paralysis so that he would heal faster.

It made him… The only word was enraged. He was enraged that he couldn’t move but he told himself that it wasn’t the doctor’s fault. It was medical stuff. It felt so like something the First Order would do, just to control them, just to control _ him _ …

_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me_ , he thought again one morning.

It had been seven days of lying awake all day, but being unable to move. Poe visited in the mornings, and Maz Kanata had come to look deeply into his eyes again and tell him that he could stop running now and feel the Force and it would make him better. 

“And don’t forget that the Resistance’s greatest pilot is fighting in your corner,” Maz had said, patting Finn’s hand. “That one cares for you very much. And he’s as stubborn as the rest of them so he won’t be stopping anytime soon.” She had left him then with a sly smile and then Finn remembered things that had happened when he’d only been half-conscious.

_ You’re quite taken with him _ , Maz had said to Poe in that way she had that seemed to say she knew everything. 

Then Poe had spoken so highly of him and said he was special.

“Can’t be very special lyin’ here like a slug." Finn snapped at no one.  He felt a surge of anger and a thin probe on a tray of instruments that he had been absently staring at shook.  

That was interesting.

Finn stared hard at the probe and tried to focus on the Force.

_ I am one with the Force and the Force is with me… _

Nothing.

He had only been able to use the Force (he was pretty sure) upon feeling a sort of joyous thrill. 

That was a hard thing to manufacture though when you were flat on your back and induced into full-body paralysis.

“Buddy!” Poe was grinning from ear to ear as he walked in.

The joyous thrill returned.

The probe flew up into the air and clanged against the high ceiling before falling to the ground, the heavy instrument barely missing Poe’s ear. “What was that?”

“Oh, uh nothing,” Finn croaked, his voice rusty with disuse. “There was a...magnet. Thing. Made the probe do that.”

“A magnet?” Poe frowned, and spun around, searching for criminal magnets.

“Yeah…” Finn had an urge to wave his hands but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move at all. It was incredibly frustrating. At least he could talk now. “It’s… a droid was working with a magnet. Long story. It’s fine. Anyway, hey. ‘Morning, Poe.”

Poe had dark circles under his eyes but he seemed so happy to see Finn that Finn nearly forgot his frustrations. Nearly. 

“Hey, buddy, how ya doing?” Poe sounded about as tired as Finn felt. The doctor had explained that they had weaned him off all the medications the First Order had been keeping him drugged up on. At first he’d felt uneasy about it. He’d been taking the cocktail they’d given him for so many years he wondered if he might die without them. And indeed, he felt a sort of bone weary exhaustion that Kalonia said was the kind of tiredness most people were used to when they had exerted themselves for a long time. And there was something satisfying about that. He had earned his exhaustion. So he didn’t mind it as much.

“I’d be better if I could move,” Finn grumbled. But he smiled slightly at Poe. 

Poe nodded and out of habit, came up and squeezed Finn’s hand. “Then let me be the first to tell you, you’ll be moving today.”

Finn felt the room spin for a moment. Kalonia hadn’t said anything and Finn had just seen her. “What? Are you serious? How do you know? When?”

“As soon as Kalonia gets back,” Poe said. “She called me down here. She says your ready and she thought she’d let me be the one to give you the news.”

Finn began to cry, though he tried to stifle it. It was all so overwhelming.

“Oh, buddy!” Below them BeeBee sensed upset feelings and rolled around, beeping with concern. Poe hovered over Finn, stroking his arm. “I know this has been so hard for ya. I really can’t imagine. I would’ve lost my mind by now.”

“I’m fine,” Finn said, sniffing. Poe took a handkerchief out of his pocket and tended to Finn’s tears. He was so tender about it, yet matter of fact as if there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Finn couldn’t speak for a moment. Finally he said, “I’m just tired. I’m happy though. I can’t wait to run. I’m going to run for  _ days _ .”

“Good,” Poe said firmly, pocketing his handkerchief. “I hope you like snow.”

“I do!” Finn said. “Maybe. I didn’t like fighting Kylo Ren in snow but that was more the situation. We trained in snow once. I didn’t like that either. Maybe I hate snow.”

Poe was laughing and he sat down by the bacta tank cot. “So they’re going to kick you outta here,” Poe said. “Then I’m going to set you up with quarters. And you’ll need some clothes and things. I’ll talk to the quarter master-”

“What will I do? Anything but sanitation is fine-”

“Fffff…” Poe shook his head, his expression wry. “Finn, don’t worry about that stuff. Please. At least not yet. Because of you the First Order is almost non-functional. You wouldn’t have to work another day in your life and General Organa would have you taken care of-”

“I have to work if I stay,” Finn said. Though, he couldn’t lie to himself, there was something almost tempting about the thought of never working again. Laying back on divans, Poe hand-feeding him grapes.

It was a comical image. 

But he also knew himself.

“You’re destined for great things,” Phasma had once said to him. And his blood had run cold. 

“Of course,” Poe said, interrupting  Finn’s thoughts, “you’re highly intelligent, a strong fighter, and of exceptional moral fortitude and will. Not to mention easy on the eyes. So it would be quite a waste to the galaxy if you chose that route.”

“Don’t think I don’t hear you trying to sweet talk me into the Resistance,” Finn said, smirking. “ _ Commander _ .”

“Damn,” Poe muttered. “Usually works.” Poe smiled at him and Finn and he shared a long look that made Finn feel like maybe he’d find his place. Then Poe shifted and appeared to trip over his own right foot, coughed, and spun, pointing behind him. “I’m going to see what’s taking Kalonia so long.”

Finn stared at the ceiling, giddy with the thought of being completely free of the First Order and having his body back to himself again, and not having to jump into a fight at any point in the next five minutes… 

Then things started occurring to him; the ships the FO likely still had working, the weapons systems they had been building, some untested, the locations he had seen on maps of bases and the locations he had only heard about, the names of officers who would not have been on Starkiller, reams of data he dimly remembered and much that he did remember very clearly (he had an exceptional memory once he learned something)...

_ I’m an informant _ , Finn thought to himself.  _ I’ll be the greatest informant General Organa’s ever seen. _

“Hey, Poe! Doc!” Finn shouted. “Hurry up, will you!”

 

“Slowly now,” Kalonia said later as Finn finally sat up and swung his feet around to the floor.

It had taken two hours to get to this point. Poe had remained with him the entire time, claiming he had nothing better to do.

Finn doubted that.

“Will I have to do, what do you call it?” Finn said. “Physical therapy?”

He had heard Kalonia talking about physical therapy once and asked Poe what it was. They didn’t have anything like it in the FO and he honestly didn’t know if that was because they weren’t willing to put in the time on a stormtrooper’s health or because their medical tech was better. It was troubling enough that he couldn’t discount the former.

“Only some stretching exercises in the mornings,” Kalonia said. She smiled, her hands on her hips and her sense of confidence settled some vibrating strings of anxiety in his heart.

_ Oh yeah… anxiety _ , Finn thought.

“You have a nervous mind,” the medicinist from the FO had told him, eyeing the cocktail he was mixing for Finn when Finn was twelve-years-old.  “And you ask too many questions according to your training officers. Humans are terribly flawed.” He had glared at Finn as if it was his fault he was putting the medicinist out like this. Other caretakers had spoken that way as well when he was young. The stigma of this awful sounding brain disease, “anxiety”, had become a bogeyman to him. He was too ashamed to ever ask his fellow troopers about it. They might laugh at him. 

Finn had spoken to Kalonia about some of these things. He had learned that taking medication for that sort of thing was considered positive. But she was suspicious of the FO’s particular cocktail. She told him she wanted to study it and perhaps Finn could go unmedicated for a bit and see how he felt about it and she could teach him some coping mechanisms to use.

Finn was just happy to be out from under the thumb of the FO in every conceivable way, chemical or no.

Finn carefully stood up. It felt good. His entire body was sore and he was still exhausted to a degree he’d never experienced, but it felt indescribably good to stand on his feet. Poe stood back, arms crossed, observing silently. Kalonia stood by as if ready to catch him should he stumble.

Finn didn’t feel like he wanted to stumble.

He felt more like he wanted to run.

“Go ahead and take a walk around,” Kalonia advised, but Finn was already on his way. He took a couple of hesitant steps and then surer and surer strides. A couple of times he started to lose his balance but it wasn’t worse than trying to walk after you’d been spinning in circles. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the corner of Poe’s mouth turn up and figured he must be doing well.

“How do you feel?” Kalonia said.

“I’m tired, everything hurts, and I’m starving. But I feel great!” Finn grinned and bounced on his toes, which gave him another brief feeling of dizziness but he thought he covered it well.

Kalonia chuckled. “Well, we can certainly feed you anyhow. Then perhaps Commander Dameron can take you to your new quarters and you can rest-”

“Ugh, I never want to lay down again.”

“Understandable you’d feel that way,” the doctor said calmly.  “Humor me. At least attempt to take it easy.”

“Will do, doc.” Finn tossed her a casual salute. 

“Let me just give you one last good scan and make sure everything’s running smoothly…”

The “one last scan” took another half hour until Kalonia finally sent Finn and Poe on their way, Poe seemed almost nervous. Finn wasn’t always the greatest at interpreting behaviors since the FO had enforced such unnatural modes of human interaction, but he’d gotten to know Poe a little bit. Poe kept fidgeting and stuttering. Finn noted it and pondered the way Poe blinked at him and kept dropping his gaze. Twice he tripped in the corridor.

_ This guy is a mess _ , Finn thought with a kind of wonder. It was amusing to him that the star pilot of the Resistance should be so awkward and nervous once you got to know him. Certainly back on the Finalizer, Poe had been cool as the snow on a wampa’s nose and it had been Finn who been a walking bundle of nerves. Maybe Poe was just that great under pressure, the smoothest kind of operator in action. It was certainly something to aspire to.

“So… So I put your cot, your bed, I put that away from the wall,” Poe rambled as they walked. He kept stopping and checking to make sure Finn was with him. Finn was still feeling a little wonky on his legs and occasionally he lost his balance and had to touch the wall and correct. Kalonia had warned him that he might be a little uncoordinated for a couple of days, an effect of the amount of bacta he’d absorbed over time. He wasn’t allowed to run yet either. Poe gently set a hand on his back, careful to avoid Finn’s injury. Finn was still wearing the med bay top they’d given him and it had a deep neck in the back so that Poe’s fingers met his skin just to the right of his shoulder-blade. Finn didn’t gasp and he didn’t shiver.

But he  _ felt _ it. In a distinct way that was _ remarkable _ . He put that thought away for now.

“Personally, I don’t like my bed up against a wall,” Poe went on. “On the side, I mean. I like it open to the right or the left. Of course, I don’t know what you like in bed…” Poe made a funny noise in the back of his throat and his swiveled to gape at Finn. “I-I mean…”

Finn caught on and he blushed, his cheeks suddenly far too hot. “Oh! No I know. Right. I don’t know. What I like in bed. For my bed, that is. I’ll figure it out.”

“Right,” Poe said, nodding rapidly.

Finn smiled genuinely. He was having an absurdly good time, he thought, talking about things as mundane as how to situate his bed, and Poe was such pleasant company. Poe swallowed and stepping back, nearly tripped again.

“You alright? You keep doing that,” Finn said.

“Yes. No. I’m fine. A little tired is all.”

“You look tired,” Finn said, and immediately felt stupid. You weren’t supposed to tell people they looked tired. Only in the FO that was considered helpful among the troopers. You never wanted to look tired in front of the officers even if you were tired. Looking noticeably tired meant you needed a higher dosage of stimulants so you could work harder longer and feel that artificial sense of waking that was a completely different sensation than the satisfying kind of exhaustion Finn felt now. “Not that you look bad,” Finn said. 

"Eh, I'm alright. Listen, so the bed is up against the wall and I’m on the other side of it. So if you need anything, gimme a tap. Anything at all. Anyway, let’s take a look around huh?”

Poe came to Finn’s door and let him in, gesturing widely. The room was smallish but not tiny. And that hardly mattered, because it was his. No shared quarters with ten other troopers, not for Finn. The much discussed bed sat in the middle of the east wall facing west towards a large corner window. The windows had blue screens controlled by a switch on the wall. Poe showed Finn how to work the switch and opened the screens all the way up to look out on the airfield all covered with snow. It was a beautiful view to have. Which seemed very lucky to Finn. It made him wonder why Poe hadn’t taken the free room for himself when he lived nextdoor.

“I thought you’d like the view,” Poe said. “But it’s not just that. Ah… Furillo had this room.”  Poe said it so quietly that Finn almost didn’t hear him.

“Furillo?”

“A pilot,” Poe said. “We lost him at Starkiller.”

“Oh.” It was stupid to feel guilty really. He had helped the Resistance after all. 

“I just thought I’d rather have you take it then take it myself,” Poe said. “And I’m pretty entrenched in my place besides. No use moving everything.” His tone strained for lightness.

The bare necessities Finn required were already stowed away in the room that still had Furillo’s furniture and a couple of odds and ends. There was an earthy ambiance to it that Finn liked. The bed was a standard round-cornered cot (covered with an eye catching handmade quilt) that looked slightly more comfortable than what he was used to, but there was a desk made of pale rough hewn wood and a matching chair and a shelf made of stones, not standard issue at all. 

“Wow…” Finn murmured and ran his fingers along the back of the chair.

“Oh yeah.” Poe plopped on the bed. “We sent Furillo’s things to his family but we don’t have the means to send his furniture that far out and they said it was fine to keep it. He made this stuff. It was sort of his hobby. The linens weren’t his though. I brought these in.” Poe patted the patchwork quilt he sat on. Finn walked over, his smile growing as he surveyed the quilt. It was multi-colored but there were several patches of the same bright orange scattered throughout and light yellows and ambers that gave it the feeling of a sunrise, though it had no obvious consistent pattern. The stitching was intricate and strange and Finn traced the lines of thread, feeling Poe’s eyes on him.

“What is this design?” Finn said.

“It’s the Yavin 4 colony,” Poe said. “It’s from Yavin 4, my homeworld.”

“Wait, this is yours then? I can’t keep this.  _ Poe _ .”

“I haven’t used it in years,” Poe said with a shrug. As if it were nothing. “Honestly. It’s been stowed away. I just…” He looked at Finn and seemed unable to decide what to say next. “I thought it would make the place a little homier. It’s nothing. But I would like you to have it, if you like it?”

“It’s… It’s perfect. It’s beautiful.” Finn shook his head, not quite sure how to put his feelings into words. “I used to imagine what my home might have looked like if the First Order hadn’t come along. How I would live. I think there’d be a quilt like this there. I like the thought anyway.”

Poe turned his head away and nodded. “Good. Okay good. And um… The walls are blank. Maybe we can-”

“Poe.” Finn took Poe’s hand and squeezed. “At some point you really have to stop giving me all your stuff.” The mended jacket sat atop Furillo’s dresser.

“I’ll  _ think _ about it,” Poe said, winking. “Now tell me, you still hungry?”

“Starved!”

Finn could not figure out for the life of him, if food tasted so much better because he was off of the FO’s meds or because the Resistance just made better food. Because he could never remember eating anything that tasted particularly good. Food didn’t taste very bad either. It just was. You ate and moved on. If you were particularly hungry it tasted a bit better. He had not known a thing called a dessert even existed until an enlisted man started talking about it once.

But this…

“Mmm.  Mmm! So good.” Finn tore into his second helping of roast galma. Poe had long finished his own meal and now just watched Finn eat, mouth agape. Beside him, his friends and fellow pilots, Jess and Snap, observed, equally in awe.

“Wow,” Jess said. “He really likes roast galma.”

“I mean I like roast galma,” Snap said with a shrug.

“Sure,” Jess said. “Who doesn’t like roast galma?”

“But he  _ loves _ roast galma,” Snap said firmly.

Finn nodded, swallowing his last mouthful. “Hmm!”

“Well, good!” Poe slapped the table, jolting the dishes. “Keep a little room for dessert though.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You have _ dessert _ !”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“He’s beautiful!” Poe blurted it out. He hadn’t meant too. Hadn’t even been thinking it, or rather he wasn’t consciously thinking it. Finn had been awake for two weeks and for a few days the thoughts about what was beautiful about Finn had gone from the forefront of his mind to pleasant background music because he had things to do. “He’s passionate about everything. It’s fascinating. He’s fascinating. And he liked the quilt. He wasn’t just saying so. I could tell.”

“Poe.” Jess Pava grabbed Poe’s arm. She was helping him check all the undercarriage bolts on a Y-wing and she pointed at him with her spanner. “Wait, you showed him the quilt? The Yavin 4 quilt? You only showed that to me after you’d known me a year and even then you were wasted and crying.”

“Yeah.” Poe chuckled and then grimaced as he tugged at his spinner, tightening a tough bolt. “Well.  I sort of...gave him the quilt.”

_ Clang. _

Jess had dropped her spanner.

“You  _ gave _ him the quilt!”

Snap’s hairy head appeared from behind a nacelle. “No way!”

“What!” Poe shrugged. “It was an impulse!”

“You’re so gone and it’s only been two weeks.” Jess laughed and shook her head.

“It’s been way longer than that!” Poe sputtered, and picked up her spanner for her, tossing it back.

“Not with him conscious,” Snap said in a singsong.

“Untrue,” Poe insisted because, he felt, this was an important point. “He’s been conscious for three weeks. He just couldn’t move for the first few days. And I visited. And there was the whole… with the Finalizer and Jaaku and-”

“Yeah,” Jess nodded. “When I want to get to know a person, I think high stakes firefights with the First Order is really the way to go.”

Poe heard Snap laugh from the other side of the nacelle and he made a noise of protest. “That _is_ the way to get to know a person. We bonded,” Poe insisted. “He saved me from torture. Torture, Jess! He saved my life, completed my mission, we would not have taken down Starkiller without him-”

“And in return,” Jess said, her nose crinkling as she tightened a nut, “you’ve given him a name, your jacket, a quilt…”

“The name just sort of happened,” Poe muttered. “And he looks really good in the jacket.”

Jess and Snap laughed and Poe flushed. He had tried to keep his interest in Finn quiet but since Finn was up and around and living right next-door, it all had a tendency to come spilling out and Poe had too many other things to worry about to add keeping his crush quiet to the list.

“So gone,” Jess said. “And I suppose you’re never going to make a move?”

“Of course he won’t!” Snap said. He grabbed a rag to test the tension of the bolts on his side. “If he wasn’t actually into Finn they’d be well, banging already. But now he’s genuinely interested, it’ll never happen.”

“I’m not talking about this again,” Poe muttered. He focused on his work. “Not everybody needs to be in a relationship.”

“Not everybody wants to be in a relationship,” Snap said quietly.

“He does,” Jess said, nodding at Poe.

“Yes, he does,” Snap agreed.

“I don’t expect you guys to understand.” He smiled tightly, still weakly attempting to remain light around his friends, devoted to his habit of keeping things okay for everyone. Especially now when Snap and Jess seemed to be in good moods whereas they had been as grim and dark as everyone else. He suspected the novelty of Finn was cheering people a little, perhaps the very idea of a defected stormtrooper was enough to give some people hope.

Snap ducked under the nacelle and popped up in front of Poe, his hands on his hips. “Yeah, we do understand actually. Because we’re both pilots too. You’re afraid he’ll lose you or you’ll lose him-”

“You know what…” Poe handed Snap his spanner. “You guys can finish this one. I’m gonna get an early lunch. Have fun.”

“Unfair!” Jess said.

He turned and felt a hand on his shoulder and Snap said, “Wait, hey, I didn’t mean to get too personal about things. I know it’s really none of my business-”

“It’s fine. I’m in a mood.” He waved a hand and tried for a genuine smile, seeing the slight expression of relief on Snap’s face. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

Poe strode back across the snowy tarmac, his jacket blowing back in the wind. He needed to requisition a new coat, he thought idly, even as he took off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket, the sharp cold refreshing on his skin. 

_ They think they understand _ , Poe thought.  _ They don’t. _

But all the reasons why he was certain no one could understand why he would only ever adore Finn from the distance of a friend were a jumble in his mind and he didn’t feel like untangling it all. That was one efficient thing about fighting the First Order; there was never much time for self-reflection. Even when there was, a credible excuse could be made. And that was fine for Poe. He wasn’t the greatest at self-reflection.

He knocked his boots against a grate at the door, kicking snow off, and a gust of wind made him shiver. He didn’t actually feel like eating lunch right now. He knew Finn was busy with Admiral Statura. So far, Finn’s job was to tell them everything he could about the FO. Poe had thought he would need at least a few days to settle but Finn had been keen to jump in. It was another thing that made him all too admirable to Poe’s mind.

He found himself wandering over to the Officer’s Lounge. The name was close to tongue in cheek. Officers congregated there but anyone was allowed in. Though since Starkiller it had taken on a very different atmosphere, the place where the Resistance old-timers went to socialize and, most often, speak of the dead. It was early in the day and Poe expected the place to be empty. Instead he found General Organa the lone occupant, sitting silently at a table by a window, a drink in front of her. The General was not a drinker, as far as Poe knew, and he had seen her since Starkiller sitting quietly at tables, a drink in front of her that remained untouched until she left or a droid came to take it away.

Poe hesitated in the doorway and clenched his fists at his sides. He didn’t want to intrude on the General. 

“Poe.” 

_ Damn. _

Organa patted the chair next to her. “Sit with me.”

The light was dim in the lounge so that Poe couldn’t see her expression as he walked over. It was telling that she did not ask him what he was doing in the officer’s lounge in the middle of the day. It was telling too that she was there herself, though there was no chance she was avoiding her own work. The General was more likely to be forced into taking a break. Yet even she had to admit that they were in a period of waiting, with the First Order having been struck such a heavy blow.

Poe sat down and Organa pushed her drink across the table towards him, the sound of the thick glass atop the metal grating and shrill. “You drink this,” Organa said. “I just like ordering them.”

Poe was not above taking a drink and he did so. It burned pleasantly going down. 

“Corellian whiskey,” Poe said. Han Solo, he knew, had been Correllian. A little bit of his heart broke.

“How are you Poe?” Organa said. 

“I’m great, General.” He had not intended it to come out quite so dryly but now Organa was laughing.

“You sound it,” Organa said. Poe grimaced and scratched his head. “You sound about as great as I am.”

He wasn’t keep track of things properly, some dim part of him thought. He was hunched in his seat, as if the weight of grief were a physical burden. “I didn’t mean to sound…” He scrubbed his face and sighed. “Damn.”

“Commander, don’t you dare act as if your grief is somehow lesser than mine,” Organa said sternly. “I get that left and right and it’s infuriating. That’s an order. Got it?”

“I didn’t lose any family at Starkiller-”

“Yes, you did.” Organa pounded the table with her fist. “We lost half our fleet, Commander. You absolutely did lose family.”

A sob rose up and Poe shut his eyes, a fist to his mouth.

_ Half the fleet.  _

Everytime he heard it that way it shocked him as if random numbers and vague comments about loss could take the edge off reality.

_ But half the fleet… _

“How many pilots have you known and lost since you started flying?” Organa said.

Poe coughed, gathering himself. “I never keep count.”

“Yeah.” Organa nodded and Poe took another sip of Corellian whiskey. “Yeah.”

He still looked for them sometimes. He had always tapped at Furillo’s door on his way to breakfast in the morning because Furillo had a tendency to sleep in. He still did so out of habit and not one morning had yet passed when he didn’t sleepily expect to see Furillo at the door and not Finn.

Poe took another sip.

“I see you, ya know,” Organa said, wagging a finger at him. “Swaggering around, wink and a smile. Making everything okay for everyone else. But every morning there you are at the wall.”

“How did you know-”

“Poe, I know everything.”

“Of course, you do,” he said. “I take my role here seriously. I know I’m the most visible pilot, I know I’m looked up to. They need to know I’m here to carry them through, to… They need to know we’ll survive this loss, this sadness, I’m just trying to-”

“That’s crap,” Organa said casually, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe not to you it isn’t. But trust me. I’m adept at sniffing out crap.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Poe felt rather bereft. 

“Alright, let me have a bit of that.” She reached out for his glass and he nudged it over. She took a healthy sip and scowled at him. “There is not one person on this base who doesn’t know loss, would you agree?”

“Probably true yeah.”

“But, Poe, not a damn one of em’ knows what it’s like to be us.”

Poe shivered slightly. He would never have put himself anywhere near Organa’s league in any category. “Us?” He said softly.

“I was raised into royalty, as you know,” Organa said, sitting back in her chair. “I was a princess, a Rebel leader, the face of the New Republic, a General… Commander, I know what it is to fill a role. To be of two or three minds at once. What I present and I what I internalize… And I have known more loss than most. We are the same that way.”

“I would never presume to-”

“Oh, stop treating me like a general. We’re talking.”

“Right.”

“You are accustomed to making everything okay so that we may all fight another day,” Organa said, and Poe nodded. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been covering for me in my grief.”

“General-”

“Be quiet, Poe. I know when you’re looking out for me and I do appreciate it. Here’s my point. We have suffered enormous losses. We also managed to set the First Order far back on their heels. Of course, it is imperative we remain vigilant. That’s why we’ve got so many recon missions set-up for the next few weeks among other plans I’m working on.  _ But _ …”

Poe knocked back the rest of his drink, suspecting he’d need it.

“If you try _ too _ hard to make everyone okay, they’ll start to think they’re not allowed to feel their grief at all-”

“No, no, that’s not what I-”

“I know, Commander.” She covered his hand with hers. Her skin was soft and crinkled. “You lost Shara too young. You grew up making things alright for Kes. It wasn’t fair.”

Poe took a long breath and shook his head. “You do know everything, don’t you?”

“You,” Organa said, “are a brilliant pilot and an great leader. But you don’t know a thing about being a regular human being with other human beings. And I know that because we’re so much alike.”

“Well, that’s the highest compliment you’ve ever paid me.”

“Pfft.” She waved a hand. “See if you still think that in twenty years.”

Poe leaned on his hand, feeling pleasantly buzzed. “Does that mean I get to know everything someday?”

“You’re a pilot,” Organa said smoothly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“You’re a snob, General.”

“I’ve known too many pilots.”

“Ha!” Poe shook his head.

Organa waved the droid server over and suddenly there was one more drink on the table. “So...tell me, Poe, how are you?”

“Not.” Poe took a sip. “Great.”

“That sounds more like the truth.”

“Although…” Finn. Every time he thought of Finn he had to smile. “It’s um…nice having Finn around.”

“Ah. Finn. Our new friend. He’s an exceptional young man.” Organa drank and winked at Poe, who blushed as if on cue.

“Um.”

“Word gets around.”

“Not to him, I hope.”

“Why not?” Organa raised an eyebrow. “You’d make a handsome couple.”

“Ah…” Poe scratched his head. “I think Finn’s got enough on his plate right now without out some beaten up old pilot hounding him.”

“Ah, well that’s Finn’s call, not yours.” Organa gave him a disapproving look. “But I do see your point. And I was never one to give romantic advice. Huh, me of all people. Although…” She tapped the table. Poe wished he could get a holo of General Leia Organa drunk. “Never let your desire to hide your true feelings stop you from telling him that you care. Or he may think you don’t care at all. Common mistake.”

“I’m sure you’ve never done that.”

“Of course not.” She smiled but she squeezed his hand, looking very serious. “I’m not kidding, Poe.”

“Alright, I hear you.”

“Where’s your friend right now?” She said.

“Talking FO with Statura,” Poe said. “He’s pretty intense about wanting to tell us everything he knows. He makes little notes when he remembers something important.” Poe smiled to himself. “This morning he asked me if we should know how troopers exercise and what they eat for breakfast. Told him it couldn’t hurt. He’s just so…” Poe shook his head, unable to contain his smile.

“You’re sweet.” She smiled. “Reminds me of better days.”

“I’m sorry if-”

“No, Poe. I  _ like _ to remember better days. So thank you. Now why don’t you get outta here? I did bring some actual work to do, I should get back to it eventually.” She tapped her data-pad and Poe tossed her a slightly mocking salute before throwing back the rest of his drink and standing up. “Thanks, General. I’ll see you later.” She saluted him back and Poe made his way out, feeling a bit better about things. 

The only problem with taking any advice from General Organa was that he idolized her so much and thought so highly of her that he couldn’t quite comprehend that he could do what she would do in any situation. He had always considered General Organa to have a sort of inner strength and grit to her that no cocky flyboy like himself could hope to achieve. Then again, General Organa had fallen for a cocky pilot and probably knew what they were capable of better than Poe did.

He smiled at the thought just as a hand fell on his shoulder. “Poe! Hey!” 

Finn was breathless and grinning and it all made Poe’s heart flutter around and that particular reaction was new and surprising so that he started blankly at Finn for a moment before saying, “Finn! Hey. Hi. Wh-what’s up?”

_ Smooth. _

“Oh, I’m done with Statura and the doc has cleared me for heavy physical activity so I was thinking I might go for a run-”

“Oh!”

Poe imagined, for a blessed moment, running beside Finn in the snow. They wouldn’t be talking so Poe couldn’t stumble over himself and wonder what had become of his brain, there would only be their breath in steamy puffs, the satisfying crunch of their booths in the snow-

“Yeah,” Finn said, “so I was wondering if there were any guidelines as to how far outside the base we should venture. Where do you go when you run?”

Oh.

“Ah,” Poe nodded. “I usually take a few laps around the airfield out of habit. But given our current status, you should be safe within five kilometers of base by yourself. Long as you’ve got your comm unit.”

_ If he wanted me to run with him, he’d ask… And he will _ . Poe concentrated on the thought as if to will it into being.  _ Right...now. _

“Thanks, Poe.” Finn slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later!”

_ Damn. _


	5. Chapter 5

“I’ve never gone on a run outside before.”

Finn was saying this out loud to no one and his voice sounded too loud in the silence of the snow as he stood on a low hill a few dozen yards from the base, his hands shoved in his pockets.

He had intended to say this to Poe just a few minutes ago along with: “Come running with me?” and “Do people here think I’m weird?” but he’d felt anxious and stopped himself. 

In fact, since coming off his First Order med cocktail he’d experienced a couple bouts of anxiety that had his heart pounding and his mind convinced he was dying. The first time he’d gone straight to Kalonia who had told him what was happening, talked him through it, and asked if he wanted to try a medication? Finn had turned it down but said he’d consider it. The second time it had happened after he’d woken up from a nightmare and he lay in bed, trembling, attempting to talk himself down as Kalonia had. He had nearly tapped on the wall to wake up Poe but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, the mindset of the FO still stuck in his head, telling him he was weak for such a thing. 

In the snow he stretched, testing his muscles a little and feeling a new flexibility that had been gone since Starkiller. It felt good, his body alive in a way it hadn’t been even at his most fit with the First Order. He set off at a light run and headed west which would take him around the airfield and towards the little rolling hills beyond. It was long past mid-day and the sun would set soon, the air was crisp and chill and clean. 

Finn ran as he had been trained to with the FO, a perfect rhythm set into the snow, his breath quick.

With the First Order, he had only ever run around a perfectly circular track inside whatever ship he was currently stationed on. As children, the little troopers would run following lights on the track, aiming for their feet to hit each light as it flashed, and each time they missed or lost their rhythm or breathed incorrectly it was a point against them. Too many points and they were punished by having to do the drills the older kids did, like pull-ups and pulling yourself across the horizontal ladder elevated high above the floor so that if you fell you could really get hurt. You either had to get across for however long it took, or fall, and no one could help you. The first time Finn had tried it he had been seven, his hands had bled. Finn suspected the Resistance would not endorse treatment like that for any child. He thought of this while running; what growing up alongside the sort of people he had met here might be like. 

What had Poe been like as a little boy, he wondered? Rey, he knew, had grown up alone and fending for herself. He imagined a world in which he and Rey and Poe had all grown up together, maybe on Poe’s homeworld of Yavin 4. Finn had seen some holos of it; a warm place thick with trees and life. If Poe was from there and loved it so much, it must be a nice place. Poe was older than he and Rey. He would have looked after them and showed them how to play games and pretend fly an X-wing. Finn would have looked up to him. They would have run around in the forest and their steps would not have been rythmic.

Finn let his mind wander, not focusing on his running, and slowed for a moment so that he lost the rhythm of his steps and his breath faltered. He felt a reflexive bit of panic and just as quickly remembered that nobody was here to regulate how he ran. Nobody was looking. He was here in the fresh cold air, stomping through the pristine white of the snow, and nobody was shouting. There was only him in this quiet. 

Finn ran faster and deliberately without rhythm. 

“Ha!” He watched his breath puff out, steaming in the chill as he came around the side of the airfield.  The big memorial wall he had heard about was visible beyond, larger than he had imagined, a big gray monument breaking the clean canvas. They had put up a pavilion over the X-wings on the airfield last night so the fighters wouldn’t get completely wrecked. Finn saw some tracks curving through the snow ahead coming from the airfield and for fun he followed them, bee-lining his route. 

“Ha ha! I’ll run where I want to!” He shouted to no one. 

The sun was ahead of him, just over the hills, pink and orange rays reflecting off the white and he followed it, passing the wall, stumbling into a deep bank of snow so that he was trudging more than running and it made him laugh. When he cleared it his pants were icy and damp. On impulse he ran up a steep bit of hill, gritting his teeth but enjoying the tension and ache of his muscles as he climbed up and up, the sun beginning to sink.  At the top he found himself overlooking a valley cut by an icy creek that curved around behind the base. The turned the creek amber and pink, the clouds roiling above in oranges

It was like nothing he had seen before. There had been times, marching through the hot sands of Jakku, when he had thought the place was strangely pretty yet brutal. But he had been wrecked at the time, upset at having lost Poe and not knowing if he would even survive his escape from the First Order. But  _this_ , this was beautiful and there was no obstacle to his taking as long as he liked to observe it.

“I made it,” he muttered now, speaking to the sunset as he caught his breath. He knelt there on the top of the hill, not caring how cold and hard it was on his knees. “Poe helped me and Rey helped me. But  _ I _ left. And I helped the Resistance. I did that. I broke away. I did it.”

“ _ I  _ did it. And I’m here. I made it.” He began to choke up and absently scooped up a handful of snow and looked at the individual flakes, the way they melted on his dark palm. It was a simple thing, but it seemed somehow momentous that he would never have thought these things or noticed these small pieces of beauty had he not summed up his will and walked into that torture chamber with no plan other than a prayer for luck.

_ “Ren wants the prisoner.” _

And taken Poe by the arm.

“I did it,” he said with a little gasp. And a hot tear fell into his hand, melting the snowflakes there. And perhaps it didn’t matter that he had only wanted to save himself at the beginning, perhaps he deserved that much. In the end he had fought for his friends when he could have run and he realized now that he wanted to continue to fight. And if he ever forgot why, he could remember this moment here overlooking the snowy valley at sunset.

Finn sat back on his heels, basking in the feeling of freedom while the sun set. Every little detail around him seemed somehow brighter, crisper, a little more real suddenly, as if he’d just grown new eyes. The tears cooling on his skin, a salty drop between his lips, a gust of wind that made him shudder, his feet warm in their boots, the sensation of his heartbeat…

He felt a change within, though nothing in the last half hour or so that he had been out in the snow had actually changed. He felt as if he’d just grown an inch or discovered some new part of himself that had always been there waiting. 

The General had told him more than once since he had woken up, that he could choose to stay with the Resistance if he liked, and if he didn’t want to fight they would find something else for him to do, that were plenty of ways to be useful. She had also said that he could leave at any time, that she would even pull strings to set him up with a situation somewhere if he wanted. Her kindness was so matter of fact and so grounded in her strength and intelligence, you could almost miss the depth of love she had for good people, even people like him who she hardly knew. You could almost miss it, unless you were less used to kindness like Finn, so that it stood out boldly enough to take your breath. Finn could tell Organa would like him to fight for them and be a Pathfinder. He had told him enough about his history as a trooper and given his actions at Starkiller, there was no reason not to believe that Finn had the potential to be a brilliant commando. But she refused to push. She would leave it up to him entirely. She emphasized his freedom to choose his future.

Finn loved her for it.

He remained there in the snow, staring out at the last rays of deep orange reflecting off the icy river for a long time thinking about what he wanted, and who he cared about, and what mattered most to him. To Finn these thoughts alone were treasures he had finally been allowed to touch and consider.

Abruptly, Finn rose to his feet. 

“You didn’t break me,” Finn said suddenly. “You didn’t break me, Ren. Phasma! Hux! All you! YOU DIDN’T BREAK ME!”  He wiped his teary cheeks and some stones quivered in the ground around him, rising through the hard-packed snow, because that thrilling feeling had returned. “I’M FREE! I DID IT! I’M FINN AND YOU DIDN’T BREAK ME!” He noticed the rocks floating around him. He reached out and focused on that feeling and the rocks quivered.

“I am one with the Force,” he whispered. “And the Force is with me.”

He imagined the rocks flying upwards and raised his hands. The rocks flew high up in the air which was so impressive to him that he lost the feeling for a moment and they came raining back down.

“Oh hell,” Finn muttered and ran some distance away so he wouldn’t get pummeled.

He shook his head at the comic absurdity of the situation and sat down on a boulder, leaning on his knees. 

There would, Finn thought, be difficult times ahead. He knew that all too well. He also knew his nightmares and seemingly causeless anxiety attacks weren’t going anywhere. And yet, he was happier than he had ever been. Not that it was saying much. He didn’t know if he had true friends in the Resistance or not, whatever that might mean. The idea of ‘true friends’ was a sort of idea he’d fall asleep imagining at night. Rey, he thought, would be one. But she was far away for who knew how long.

Poe…

He had an irresistible urge to find Poe and tell him about his run and at least attempt to convey what it all meant to him. Poe, he suspected, had more important things to do and closer friends who he cared more about than this trooper who, while heroic, was a little bit troublesome to bother with everyday. But it was a place to start, Finn suspected. He was in too good a mood right now to even let that bit of sadness get him down and he turned around and began to jog back to camp. 

Finn poked around base looking for Poe so long that by the time he realized Poe would likely have gone to dinner and went to the mess, Poe was just about finishing up and on his way to fly on some recon mission with Jess Pava that would take him two whole weeks.

Finn felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Two weeks?” He eyed Poe, the half-eaten food on a tray, suddenly less than appetizing. 

“Yeah.” Poe shrugged but seemed almost apologetic. “It’s short notice, I know. We’ve heard some chatter about activity in the Outer Rim. Organa wants to stay on top of it. This literally just happened while you were out.”

“Oh.” Finn nodded. “Do you think- I don’t suppose we could talk or… When are you leaving exactly?”

“Um.” Poe idly reached across the table and tapped Finn’s hand. “Right now actually.”

And as if to vindicate him, Jess Pava came jogging by and pointed to the mess exit and said, “Going?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Poe said, nodding. He said to Finn, “You can walk me out to the field if you want.”

Finn followed Poe back out to the hall down which Jess and Snap Wexley were rushing and discussing whatever this mission was and crew members ran by with supplies to load into their X-wings. Finn’s mind was racing. Things had been so quiet around base, he had nearly forgotten what the reality of ongoing warfare would be like in the Resistance, and this wasn’t even a particularly dangerous mission, or so it seemed…

“Poe, is this mission dangerous?” He snuck a look at Poe, whose mouth was turned down in a grimace as he walked.

“Nah,” Poe muttered.

“Poe.”

“I don’t know, it…” He shrugged. “It might be. We’re not sure what we’re walking into. Otherwise I’d probably be going alone.”

“I’m glad you’re not,” Finn said.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say and felt foolish. All he wanted was to speak to Poe about the thousand things it felt important to say but the thought that Poe would be away for two weeks seemed somehow like a logistical error. In the hangar, Poe rushed around, BeeBee nipping at his heels, as he dressed in his flight suit. Finn just watched, feeling at a bit of a loss. Before he could even gather his thoughts, Black One was ready and Poe was suited up, his helmet under his arm, BeeBee docked and ready to fly.

“Sorry I have to rush off so abruptly,” Poe said, smiling sheepishly. “Sometimes that’s how it goes.”

“Right right.” Finn nodded. “Well…”

_ What if something happens to him? _

_ What if he gets hurt? _

_ What if he dies! _

Finn threw his arms around Poe and hugged him tight, squeezing his eyes shut. “Take care of yourself, will ya?”

He felt Poe sigh and a hand rubbed his back. “I will, buddy. I promise. I’ll be back before ya know it.”

“Okay.”

Finn was reluctant to part from him, if only because the embrace felt so damn good but he finally let go, a little embarrassed. “Um. May the Force be with you,” Finn said. “Is that what they say?”

“Heh.” Poe smiled. “Yeah. Thanks, Finn. I’ll see you soon.”

Then Poe turned around and climbed up into his X-Wing and just minutes later his fighter had disappeared into the night sky and Finn could only see stars.


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks on recon was, to Poe, a bit like torture. Though, having been subject to actual torture, Poe wondered if he needed a new word. It was a lot of slow flying with the occasional stealth maneuver just in case, and then camping out planet-side and covering a lot of ground via slow hovers. On the most useful recon missions, you still ended up having to quietly cover seemingly endless territory and seeing nothing while remaining on alert at all times. 

Mind numbing.

He was grateful that at least Jess was along for the ride, flying beside him and pestering him via his radio, BeeBee occasionally piping up with status updates.

By day three, Poe thought he might lose his mind. He tried to find a tiny little bit of room to think about Finn while remaining on alert because thinking about Finn was generally a pleasant activity even when tinged with melancholy.

“Hey Commander.” Jess’s voice came in tinny over the radio as the two X-Wings flew in slow behind the cover of an asteroid field, going deeper into the system.   
“Yep.”

“I’ve been thinking about you and Finn,” Jess said, ever so casually.

“Oh man.”

“I’m just saying, don’t pretend Snap and I don’t get it,” Jess said. “War makes love hard as hell. Especially when you’re both in the fight. But if you don’t even try, what the hell are we fighting for anyway?”

“It’s not just that,” Poe muttered. He led them in a dodge around some shifting asteroids and leveled out again. “I mean it is that but… I never really pictured myself getting the chance to be with somebody or to have a family or…” Poe shrugged, though Jess couldn’t see him. It was a little easier to speak openly while looking out at his home; the galaxy itself. Planet-side he sometimes felt his words pulled out of him, dragged by gravity. Out here he felt a little freer. “I just assumed it wasn’t in the cards for me.”

“Why not?” Jess said, and he heard her frustration. “Do you think you don’t deserve it or-”

“It’s not that, it’s…” He sighed. “My parents devoted their lives to the Rebellion. They risked death every day knowing there was a damn good chance they would never live to see the end of the fight. And then the Rebels win. Thank the Maker, it’s over, we won. And they thought that was it. Settle in on Yavin 4, have a kid. Golden. And then…”

“And then your mom…” Jess said quietly.

“And then my mom dies because that’s the way life goes sometimes,” Poe said. “But it wasn’t just that. The First Order? The thought that the New Republic let them come back full force after everything my parents fought and bled for?” He clenched his fist. Nothing could get him quite so angry as the thought of the Rebellion’s work erased by the First Order and the New Republic’s incompetence and corruption. “Anyway. I have to finish what they started. And I always figured it wouldn’t include the kinda family life they tried to have and lost. Besides, I’m an old pilot now, Jess. How many more missions can I tempt fate? Sooner or later my number’s gonna come up and Finn’s had enough pain in his life. Better to just...be his friend.”

Jess was silent for so long that Poe started to wonder if his spilled guts and not gotten through to her comm.

“Damn, Dameron.” He heard her laughing, squelchy through his earpiece. “That’s the biggest bunch of bantha shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Jess!”

“There is a good chance our friend, Finn, is not going anywhere-”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Pfft. He’s ain’t leaving, Poe. He’s a fighter who believes in the cause and I’ve seen the way he looks at you for another thing. If he sticks around and you refuse to be with him because one of you  _ might _ not make it back from some mission, you think he’ll be any happier?”

“He won’t be sadder.”

“Yeah he will be,” Jess said. “Imagine he likes you. And you guys stay casual friends and then he loses you. Then you’ve robbed him of all the memories he would’ve had to hold onto. He won’t get to remember kissing you or holding your hand or waking up next to you. Of course, he’ll be sadder, you dummy. Sorry. Commander. Commander dummy.”

Poe sat with that for a minute and he shivered. Because she was right. And it was so obvious he felt like he’d had some block in his head that she’d just dug out and tossed.

“Well shoot, Pava,” Poe mumbled. “Didn’t know you were so wise. Or romantic.”

“I contemplate life a lot while maintenancing the engines,” Jess said with a giggle.

“You may have a point,” Poe said, almost inaudibly.

“What was that, Commander?”

“I said you might,  _ might _ have a point.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Poe laughed to himself and then they both noticed a flicker on the radar which turned into a four-hour wild goose chase that came to nothing and then it was time go planet-side for the night. This time they were camping out near some crystal quarry, their tents set up in chunky sand that crackled under his boots. Poe dug out some grub and they sat out on logs under the moonlight, chowing down, tired from searching all day for First Order activity and seeing nothing. They were quiet, only BeeBee's occasional chirp alerting them to a small animal nearby or a weather report for the next morning, their utensils knocking against the inside of their cans of stew, heated over a small mobile stove.

“Can I ask you something tricky?” Jess said.

Poe was leaning on his knees, contemplating his last bite of stew. They were only three days in, it was too early to be stick of stew. 

But he had eaten a whole lot of canned stew on missions over the years.

He wondered how much. Maybe like a Finalizer’s worth of stew.

“Yeah,” Poe finally said.

“Do you think about them much?” Jess said. He was sure he knew exactly what she meant, which was strange because ‘them’ could mean so many different people. “The...uh, the rest of the fleet.”

Poe thought of the wall; Furillo’s holo smiling at him as snowflakes fell.

“Yeah,” Poe said again.

“I know you must,” Jess went on. “Just...sometimes it’s hard to tell with you. You know. I don’t mean to overstep.”

He didn’t like it when Jess treated him like a CO. And that was his problem. Because he was her CO. They were friends, sure, and would die for each other no question. But unless he managed to become Admiral Dameron, he would be Commander Dameron and among the pilots that would always be on the table.

“I think about them everyday, Jess,” Poe said. His voice felt too loud, perhaps because it was so quiet outside. He set down his can of stew. “Truth is some days I only  _ can _ think of them.” He heard Pava start crying and tears welled up in his own eyes. He scooched closer to her and put his arm around her, squeezing her shoulders. “I know,” he said. “Me too.”

“I t-try to be strong about it, ya know,” Pava said, her voice catching. “Like General Organa. And you. But sometimes it just…”

“Yeah.”

She sniffed and said, “Sorry.”

“No no.” He set his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Hey, where’d that wise woman go? Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.  _ I’m  _ sorry, Pava. I’m sorry if I ever made you or anybody else on base feel like they weren’t allowed to grieve. I think I just... I didn’t know how to grieve myself, I think. I don’t know. Just feels like…”

“Like we lost,” Pava said, smiling sadly.

“Sometimes yeah.” Poe sighed. “That’s war for ya. Come here.”  He hugged her then, and let her lean her head on his shoulder. “It’s hard to know how to lead sometimes.”

Pava leaned back, wiping her eyes. She punched him in the shoulder and said, “I think you do alright, boss. And I don’t think you did anything wrong. I mean Snap and Kun and I talk about this stuff all the time. How much we miss them.”

“Good.” Poe stared down at his hands, twisting his fingers. He missed Finn suddenly. Fiercely. 

“We talk about you a lot,” Pava said, as if testing the waters.

“Yeah?”

“We worry about you.”

“Jess…”

“It’s like you said.” She nudged him. “Hard to lead, right? You think you can’t crack open with us because you have to be the tough leader. And then who’ve you got with a shoulder for  _ you _ to cry on.”

Poe took a long breath. She had a decent point but he had too many years of training and was too accustomed to the idea that some interactions just weren’t quite appropriate between a commanding officer and their pilots. But perhaps he could give in just a  _ little. _

“I gave Furillo’s room to Finn,” Poe said.

“Oh no, that room smells like farts,” Pava blurted out. Poe burst out laughing and she laughed along with him. “Sorry but…”

“No, it’s true. Pretty sure he wanted to be remember it for it.”

“Ugh, when he’d climb into my X-Wing and fart in it just before I got in!”

That made Poe laugh so hard his head hurt a little, and he leaned on his wrist looking over at Pava. “Snap got the worst of it.”

“That’s ‘cause Snap  _ gave _ the worst of it.”

“They used to make Asty so mad.”

“Aw, Asty.” 

“Buhl,” Pava said softly. “Keever. Bangel...”

“Keever was nineteen,” Poe said, shaking his head.

“Um, before we left I heard that Statura and Organa are having a sort of memorial thing? Like a bonfire out by the wall. Tell stories about people, maybe songs. That sort of thing. Will you go?”

“Yes,” Poe said. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“Good.” Pava took a deep breath and sat up straight. He saw her stifle a yawn. “I think I gotta hit the hay, Commander.”

“Alright. I’m just gonna sit out a little longer. ‘Night, Jess.”

“‘Night.”

She got up to leave and he said, “Hey, Pava.”

“Yep?”

“You’re my favorite, ya know. Of all of em’. But keep that on the down low.”

She tossed him a smirk. “I bet you say that to all the pilots.”

He only winked at her and she laughed, the bell-like sound of it fading as she climbed into her tent. Poe sat in the dark for a while, BeeBee quiet beside him, but their presence was comforting in the way that Bee-bee had always been comforting. 

He felt...better, he realized.

Much better actually, as if he’d been carrying some bricks on his back and Pava had helped remove them. Maybe he  _ could _ open up a little to Finn. Pava had something about the ‘way’ Finn looked at him and he’d inwardly dismissed it but maybe… Maybe. He wondered what the bonfire would be like and if Finn would go and if he did go would he sit down next to Poe? 

He wondered if Finn would invite him to go running with him sometime? And could they sit somewhere and watch the sun rise or set? And if Poe was smiled upon by whatever the Force was out there in the galaxy, would be lay down on that quilt and hold Finn in his arms? 

He smiled widely at just the thought and finally rose to go to bed and that night he dreamed of sitting beside Finn, watching the sun sink below the hills beyond the icy river behind the base.


	7. Chapter 7

Finn spent the first couple of days after Poe left for his mission getting to know the base better and learning his options. He was a free man now and a free man should make educated decisions, he thought. He certainly knew what he was leaning towards, but he didn’t want to be hasty either. He spent some time in the mission control room quietly watching Organa and Statura strategize and getting to know how the Resistance worked. It seemed a lot more logical than anything he had witnessed in the First Order, where severity and political gamesmanship won out over the best idea and disagreement could get you demoted or even physically punished (depending on how Kylo Ren might be feeling that day). In the Resistance, leadership meant listening closely to the best ideas, keeping your mind open, and knowing who was the best at what. During the time he spent in the room, they had no current battle or mission to plan. Instead they were using the time they had been given to strategize what-if scenarios. No idea of what the First Order might pull or what the Resistance might someday be up against seemed too outlandish. Except for the ones that were actual jokes; Statura making a wry comment about ewoks that had Organa laughing. It was the first time Finn had seen Organa laugh and it made him grin.

“I guess the most important question,” Organa said at one point, “is what is the First Order’s greatest asset? Snoke?”

“Their arsenal, their technology…” Statura muttered, tossing out ideas. 

“Possibly my son,” Organa said. No one commented on that.

Finn stepped forward, clearing his throat. He felt nervous about it, but he couldn’t risk them not getting the right answer when he knew exactly what it was.

“Um, General?” Finn said quietly. He walked up to the giant holo galaxy map and rested his hands on the railing around it, the cool metal anchoring him a little.

“Yes, Finn?” She looked at him, expectant and not impatient.

He froze for a moment. It still felt strange to receive from a  _ General _ a response like that, as if whatever Finn had to say might be as important as what Poe or Statura had to say.

“I can tell you what the First Order’s greatest asset is,” he said. “I only know because that’s exactly what they called it. They spoke of it that way all the time.”

“What is it?” Organa stepped towards him, tilting her head, eying him with a steady gaze.

“I don’t know where precisely this base is,” Finn said. “I know it’s near the Kamino System. If not in the Kamino System. It would be difficult to find. They took care to hide it.”

“What makes this base so special, Finn?” Organa said.

“It’s...It’s where they take the infants,” Finn said quietly, not quite able to look at her. “They take them from everywhere, you know. Scattershot around the galaxy. Never stay in one place too long. But they take them to that base to raise. It’s huge. That’s where I was raised. If you want to call it that. Where they train the children to become troopers. I’m certain I’ve heard both General Hux and Captain Phasma refer to it as the First Order’s greatest asset. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner, when you said that it just reminded me-”

“Finn.” Organa took his hand in hers and squeezed it, though her expression was stern. “Do not apologize to me.”

“I guess we know what we’re doing next,” Statura said.

“Absolutely,” Organa said, and her mouth was set. 

“Do you think you could find it?” Finn said. “Do you think you’d be able to save the kids there?”   


“Or we'll die trying,” Organa said, looking very fierce.

That was a good day for Finn. And after that he found out where the Pathfinders went to run drills and train and just sat and watched them for a while until Beckler, a Pathfinder captain, nodded to him and asked him how he was doing. By this point Finn generally assumed that anybody he ran into knew not only his actions at Starkiller but that he was the guy who’d won Poe Dameron’s jacket (a couple said he had also won Poe Dameron’s heart which made Finn blush). They talked for a minute and then Beckler asked him if he wanted to try some drills and sparring. He was hesitant at first but two hours later he felt both exhausted and energized. He ate his meals with gusto while Snap Wexley told him embarrassing stories about Poe. 

“Has he told you about his quilt?” Snap said, raising an eyebrow.

Finn was eating candied Corellian peaches and he paused, his spoon frozen between his lips. He shook his head. 

“You should ask him about that quilt,” Snap said gravely. “He gave it to you, right?”

Finn nodded.

“You should ask him about it.”

Finn didn’t like the sound of that at all. It sounded like the quilt was more important than Poe had let on and that maybe Snap’s point was that Poe might really want it back. 

And Finn  _ really _ liked the quilt, it was as comforting and homey as Poe had intended it to be.

It also smelled like Poe and while Finn wasn’t going to overthink new emotions and sensations that were pleasant while things were so good, he knew it probably meant something significant.

The next day Finn requested a meeting with the General and the General, perhaps still full of good will for the information that Finn had given her so far, made time for him right away, which startled Finn who had expected a whole morning of planning out what he would say. Instead he was ushered into her office and offered a seat.

“I just want to say again, Finn, how grateful we are for everything you’ve been able to tell us,” Organa said, making herself comfortable behind her desk. The room was painted eggshell white but her desk was a pale blue. It was a little lighter and more cheering than some of the drabber rooms he had seen on base. “Particularly in regards to that base in the Kamino System. I don’t have to tell you of all people what a significant thing that is.”

“I can’t believe it took so long for me to remember that,” Finn said. “It was just based on bits of things I had heard and memories of when I was there, I guess.”

“So you have something you’d like to talk to me about?”

“Yes.” Finn took a deep breath and said. “Well. If your offer still stands, General, I’d very much like to remain with the Resistance and to serve as a Pathfinder if they’ll have me.”

Organa took a breath and Finn was sure he saw a bit of satisfaction and perhaps even relief in her eyes. “Before I start thanking my lucky stars, Finn, I would like to make absolutely sure that  _ you _ are absolutely sure about this decision. No one would blame you if you chose to leave the fight. You deserve the freedom to make your own choices, I want to emphasize that. I don’t want you to feel inordinately obligated.”

“That’s just it, Commander,” Finn said. “It’s sort of like… The freedom to be able to choose for myself, it sort of makes me want to fight all the more for the freedom of others. I can’t turn my back on it. And I’ve seen the way you work and interact and communicate here. And the way everyone cares for each other. It’s something I want to be a part of.”

Organa smiled and leaned forward in her seat, “Then Finn, nothing would make me prouder than to have you as one of our Pathfinders.” They shook hands and she said, “Though I suspect Poe will think he’s lost a pilot.”

“Oh, I’m no pilot,” Finn said, rolling his eyes a little. “A gunner okay. I’m a good shot. But I can’t fly a toy X-Wing much less a real one. There is something else I should tell you though.”

“Yes?”

“I… I can use the Force,” Finn said, holding a level gaze with the General. “I don’t know how it works at all. I don’t know how to control it or anything. But apparently I can...do that. I just thought you should know. Maybe it will be useful.”

The General didn’t look particularly surprised. As if this was almost something to be expected of Finn. “And you didn’t think of becoming a Jedi?” She asked. “Like your friend Rey?”

“From what I’ve heard about the Jedi, I don’t quite think it’s for me,” Finn said. “Of course, I couldn’t be happier or prouder for Rey. I think she’ll be a brilliant Jedi. But...the rules. The way you have to control what you feel and the restrictions on how you’re allowed to live… I’ve done that.”

“Then I think you and I have something in common,” Organa said. Finn tipped his head in question. Organa casually gestured towards a tall vase of flowers next to her desk and it levitated in the air and came around Finn’s chair, setting down beside him. She smiled at shocked expression and said, “I believe you and I will get along very well. Let’s put that Force ability on the backburner for now, I think. I won’t stop you from using it, there is no rule here for that. Just be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then welcome aboard.”

 

By the time Poe was scheduled to be back, Finn truly felt like he had a home. He started training with the Pathfinders and at first he was so nervous he worked himself up into an anxiety attack. He went to Kalonia for that and they decided to start him on a mild medication that he could take when he felt he needed it. As it turned out, the Pathfinders were as welcoming as Poe’s friends had been. He had been afraid that people would still see him as a stormtrooper, but on the contrary, they all saw him as a hero. His only problem was the constant onslaught of questions, some of which he didn’t feel like answering except to Organa or Statura or Poe, and the extra attention. There were a few younger recruits among the Pathfinders who seemed aloof and who Finn thought must disliked him until he was told they were all completely intimidated and too awestruck to speak to him. The day before Poe’s return, one of the new recruits who had also lost a friend on Hosnian Prime, came knocking at Finn’s door. Her name was Setta and she was a Mirialan. When Finn opened his door he saw a bowed head, the visitor’s face completely obscured by the ornate Mirialan headdress.

“Sir, Mr. Finn, sir,” the girl said, her voice shaking.

“Oh,” Finn said. “Uh, hi. Hi there.” 

“Sir, my name is Setta, I wanted to thank you personally for your brave actions during the Starkiller battle and to say I am so very glad you are fighting for the Resistance and especially that you are a Pathfinder, sir.”

“Oh!” Finn didn’t quite know what to say. He shifted from foot to foot. His heart felt big.  “I… Thank you for that. Really. That’s very nice of you. I’m glad I’m here too. But you don’t have to call me sir. I’m just like you.”

She raised her head with a jerk and gaped at him with wide green eyes. “Oh no, sir. You are like no one else. You are… you are  _ Finn _ .”

Finn stood there and absorbed that for a moment and then lurched forward and threw his arms around Setta in bear hug. “Thank you! Thanks, Setta! That means a lot to me.”

By the morning of Poe’s return, Finn felt like the only thing he was missing on base was Poe. Worse was the fear of something happening to Poe which had kept him up a couple of nights, softly tracing the stitching of the Yavin 4 colony in his quilt. But there had been so many people to talk to and some of them asked him questions he was happy to answer and he was curious about them too. People especially liked to hear about his adventure with Han Solo because everyone was always curious about Han Solo. They also wanted to hear about Rey, the Jedi who had defeated Kylo Ren was getting to be as famous as Luke Skywalker. Once they exhausted Finn’s nth retelling of his own actions on Takodana, they all made him tell them about Rey and Solo and Chewbacca from start to finish over and over. He ended up drawing crowds in the mess whenever he told those stories and even people who had already heard them a couple of times came to listen.

Finally, Poe’s X-Wing was landing on base, in the runway cleared of snow. Finn stood in front of the hangar, a thick green wooly scarf given to him by Setta (who always seemed concerned that he wasn’t warm enough) wrapped around his neck, his hands shoved in the pockets of his precious Poe Jacket.

Then suddenly there was the pilot, cheeks a little rosy from the chill, curly hair wild when he took off his helmet. And then just as quickly Poe’s arms were around him and Finn shut his eyes and discovered that he wanted very much not to let go.

Yet eventually, after a lengthy embrace, they parted. “I’m so glad you’re back!” Finn said, still clutching Poe’s hand, not quite willing to break contact. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt or anything?”

“Not a scratch,” Poe mumbled. His eyes had not left Finn’s. He had a funny look on his face that Finn had never seen anyone wear before, at least not directed towards him. He felt like there were sparks popping under his skin.  “It was completely uneventful actually. Boring as all get out. But how are you, Finn? They keeping you busy?”

“Oh, I have so much to tell you!” Finn said, squeezing his hand. “But you probably have to debrief or you’re tired or-”

“No no!” Poe said. “I’m having Pava do it, she needs the practice and there’s not much to report. And I’m wired from flying, I want to talk to you. I’m all yours.”

“Good.” Finn grinned.  _ All yours _ . He liked the way that sounded on Poe’s lips.

They talked till late that night, so late in the fact that they never went to bed and Finn woke up in his clothes atop the quilt, a heavy warm Poe curled up next to him. Poe’s head rested on Finn’s shoulder and his hand lay on Finn’s chest right over his heart.

Finn was surprised by how surprised he wasn’t. It didn’t feel strange or even unexpected. It simply felt like the way things were supposed to be and he turned his head so that his lips brushed Poe’s hair.

That night was the bonfire and people sang songs. Even Organa stood up in front of the fire, and after a little Corellian whiskey, she talked about those she had known from Hosnian Prime who had been lost, and those they had lost battling Starkiller. She was eloquent yet matter of fact and Finn could see exactly why she was the General. Despite all of her loss, and the grief that came off of her in waves, she made everyone sitting around the big fire watching her feel as if they were each a vital part of the Resistance and that hope would be their bastion. After she spoke, Statura spoke, and then Organa looked to Poe. He had been sitting between Finn and Pava, Snap behind him. Now he stood to face everyone. 

They had built a temporary platform and a pit for the fire and it stood atop the snow, a clear dome high over them to catch the fresh flurries with a flue in the middle for the smoke.

“I used to think that strength meant brushing aside your real feelings,” Poe said, without prelude, his hands in his pockets. Everyone was watching him as the fire crackled behind him. “I thought to be a good leader I had to try to keep everyone happy somehow, no matter what kind of loss I was feeling myself. Huh. No matter what they might be feeling. No matter the depth of grief.” He looked over at Organa who wore a knowing smile. Finn listened, with rapt attention, his hands folded in his lap. 

“I was wrong. And a lot of you knew better. Turns out grief takes a lot of bravery. Letting the weight of loss hit you and letting yourself feel that pain even when the fight ain’t over.  _ That’s _ bravery. That’s strength.” Poe laughed and said, “Because it’s terrifying. And bravery means being scared and doing the scary thing anyway.” He looked straight to Finn then and nodded, but didn’t make a show of it. Jess nudged Finn and smiled and Finn felt the eyes of the whole base looking him fondly for a moment.

“I jogged to the wall here every morning,” Poe said, shaking his head. “To look at the faces of the fallen. But I could hardly say their names aloud.” He took a deep breath and shouted: “Furillo!” He found himself choking up again and his voice broke but he cried out anyhow: “Asty!”

“Buhl!” Pava shouted.

“Keever!” Snap shouted.

“Bangel!”

“Sayla!”

“Han Solo,” Organa said loudly. That was followed by the briefest pause and then several shouts of names, one after the other. Poe nodded and wiped his eyes and sat down next to Finn who threw an arm around his shoulder, Snap patting his back and Pava squeezing his hand.

It was late when Poe followed Finn to his room again because the conversation just couldn’t seem to end. Finn plopped down on the bed and Poe stood somewhat awkwardly. Finn, if he was being honest, was hoping Poe would end up curled up in his arms again but he wasn’t sure how to broach it. Though he had the distinct impression since the moment of Poe’s return that Poe had something important to say and had not yet garnered the courage.

He remembered Snap telling him to ask Poe about the quilt and the thought was still worrying. But if the quilt was more important than Poe was letting on, Finn would feel bad not bringing it up.

“C’mere,” Finn said, taking off his shoes. He sat on one leg and patted the bed. Poe sat down next to him, fidgeting with his hands. Finn had swiped a quarter-full bottle of whiskey from the memorial and now he took a sip and handed it to Poe, coughing a little. “I want to ask you something.”

“What is it, buddy?” Poe took a sip and set the bottle on the floor and gazed at Finn with the affectionate expression he always seemed to be wearing around Finn.

“This quilt,” Finn said. “I was talking to Snap and he told me to ask you about it. Sounded like maybe it’s more important to you than you’re letting on.”

Poe took another sip of whiskey and shook his head. “Snap’s a nosy jerk.”

“He is not,” Finn said with a chuckle.

“Well, he’s nosy.”

“Poe.”

“It…” Poe sighed and his hand lay on one of the orange patches of the quilt. “It is important to me. Very important. My aunt made this quilt. My mother’s sister. After… She made it after my mother died. When I was little. She said it made her feel better to make it. It was how she dealt with the grief. And then she gave it to me.”

“Poe.” He put his hand over Poe’s hand. 

“All these orange patches are from her flight suit.” His hand turned over under Finn’s to tangle their fingers together. “It was a comfort, ya know? I’d curl up under it when I was a little kid and it kinda made me feel like she was there again, like a hug from her.”

“Tell me this isn’t the most precious thing you own?” Finn said, smiling a little.

“It is,” Poe said with a little shrug. And Finn saw that his eyes were watery.

“I can’t take this from you,” Finn said. “Why would you give it to me?”

“‘Cause you mean more,” Poe said, a tear falling as he reached up to stroke Finn’s cheek. It felt like a culmination of things Finn had been feeling himself. “It’s okay, you know,” Poe went on. “I’m not expecting you to feel the same way about me. But… I’ve known a lot of brave people in my life, Finn, and I think you’re the bravest of them. And the sweetest and the most… You had every reason to became who they wanted you to become. And you didn’t. You’re too strong, you’re too kind. You are your own person more than anyone I ever met and I...” He shook his head. “You’re just plain lovely.” Finn cupped Poe’s hand against his cheek to hold it there. “And even if you never feel the same way, I think you should know that somebody loves you as much as I do.”

Finn did not want to say it back, only because the idea of it all was so new and wonderful that he didn’t want to take it lightly. But he felt as if his heart was swelling up too big in his chest and giving him the idea to do something about it, so he closed his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed Poe gently, his lips uncertain but willing. Poe’s lips were warm and soft and tasted a little bit like whiskey. He squeezed the hand still cupping his cheek and Poe’s mouth opened just a little bit and Finn tasted Poe’s top lip with his tongue and felt the Force rushing through him. It was as if they were floating but there was no time to think about that when he was just now discovering the sensation of Poe’s tongue. He threw his arms around Poe’s neck and they kissed and kissed. And there was Poe’s other hand gently massaging Finn's neck and Finn’s other hand finding the gentle curve of Poe's hip. Finn broke their kiss to breathe and then discovered the pleasant bristle of Poe’s stubble brushing his lips and kissed him there on his jaw and tasted the skin with his tongue.

“Oh, Finn,” Poe said, breathless. And then, “Ah!”

Poe broke away and looked down to see that they were both _actually_  hovering over the bed. About a meter above it, in fact.

He looked up at Poe, his eyes wide. “Finn!”

“Oh. Yeah. I really do have the Force, I guess.” Finn shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Why did we stop kissing?”

“But-”

“Shut up, buddy,” Finn said, and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hoped you enjoyed this fic that was apparently about wise women telling Poe to stop being dumb lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the Fandom Trumps Hate donor who had me write this fic, I hope it pleases them! :-D


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